Title: Costume
Author: rowan
Copyright:
MajickRowan 2001
Summary:
I like to think of JC as our own personal doll, to be dressed and posed and
fucked as we see fit.
Disclaimer:
The skirt was actually black.
Note:
Not completely complete, but close enough.
Quote: Take
me for a ride, in your sweet delicious perfect little mouth… [Dave Matthews.
Rapunzel.]
JC
watches himself in the mirror as he smoothes the last bit of glossy red paint
across his bottom lip with his pinky finger. He puts the small tube down and
steps back, taking in the whole effect of him. He tugs absently-mindedly at the
leather mini-skirt, wondering if red is too whorish a color for a leather
mini-skirt. He does like the way the fishnets feel to his fingertips and he
knows he’d be willing to do this all over just to wear these boots again. He
takes another step back, eyeing himself critically. He thinks he might have
done this just a bit too well. He wasn’t supposed to look this…pretty. It is
unnerving, but he doesn’t have time to start over. How little time he actually
has is made evident when he hears Chris holler his name from downstairs as he
lets himself in.
JC
wishes for a second that he could go back in time, take back that ‘yes’ he’d
given to Chris when he first suggested drag for Justin’s costume party. Wished
he wasn’t so susceptible to Chris’s
“Come
on. It’ll be funny. We’ll be the perfect couple.”
He
wishes he’d said no to the girl with the spiky pink hair who’d talked him into
this corseted top. He feels exposed. Too much of his skin is showing. He
definitely thinks he’s gone too far.
He spins
around, careful in these three-inch heels, and thinks Chris didn’t know what he
was talking about. This isn’t funny; he looks like a dominatrix.
Chris
bangs up the stairs, yelling, “Where are you?” Chris is the type of person who
barges. Through crowds. Through life. Into JC’s bedroom. The door swings wide,
and he stops short. Cuts off his words in the middle of “we’re gonna be la-“
JC
swallows past the nervous tension in his throat. He runs hand- long fingers,
burgundy nails- down his front. He draws himself up to his full height and
waits for Chris to speak.
He
doesn’t. In fact, Chris doesn’t seem to be breathing. JC says “well?” and puts
a hand on his hip, stands at an angle with one hip jutted out in these knee
high boots. Loose glitter falls to his shoulders when he moves his head.
Chris is
staring. Hard. JC sees something dark pass through Chris’s eyes, and hears a
small growly noise from his throat.
Finally Chris chokes
out, “god, C.”
JC chances another
glance at his mirror. The girl in the mirror is blushing. Her cheeks are dark
red. When he looks back, Chris is standing a lot closer to him than before. And
it’s suddenly very hot in his room.
Chris reaches up and
fingers one of the stiff spikes of JC’s hair. A shiver races up his spine.
Chris comes around to face JC, looking up into his painted face. He seems
determined to be sure that this is real.
“So, it looks good?”
JC asks petulantly.
Chris touches JC’s
hip, feels cool red leather made warm by JC body. And JC has his answer when
Chris places a hand- soft and hot- on the back of JC’s neck, pulling his head
down and leaning up so their lips meet.
JC makes a soft sound
deep in his chest as Chris’s tongue sweeps through his mouth, tasting him. JC feels heat coursing through him.
Chris ends the kiss
and steps back so they can both breathe. JC watches Chris touch his mouth and
pull the finger away, stained ruby-red.
[Fin.]